


Armament

by fatalchild



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Wordcount: 500-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-19 00:09:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1448092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatalchild/pseuds/fatalchild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angels were made for celestial workings, but when their enemy is something physical, they require protection of the same sort.<br/>SRS2013 Bonus Round 5 -- Prompt: Armor</p>
            </blockquote>





	Armament

“They’re ravaging the planet,” Michael says.

Lucifer replies, “I know.” 

A layer of red cloth falls into place. It swishes around the lines of a newly formed torso, rustling against the heavy padding already in place. Michael’s form is strange under Lucifer’s touch, solid and earthly and unfamiliar. He feels very far away from this entire experience, yet this corporeal archangel seems to have something like a gravitational pull.

“This is a body,” Michael tells him.

And again, Lucifer replies, “I know.” 

“It will act as a buffer between the monsters and my grace.”

“Uh huh.” He drops down slowly, fastening the grieves over Michael’s legs, fitting them snugly into place with a strap behind his calves.. They don’t talk for a while; then it’s: “Where is Father?”

“Above.”

“Oh.” Lucifer lifts Michael’s foot to situate it into the armored shoe.

“He has charged me with this task, Lucifer.”

The other foot now, Lucifer nods and looks up imploringly. He stares for a moment, grace rustling around his core with disquiet, and then rises again. “I want to come.”

Michael holds his arms out. “No.”

The first layer is very thin, a buffer between his arms and the gauntlets that come down over his hands. Lucifer takes each of Michael’s arms and moves them at the joint, making sure he has the ability to bend. “I can help.”

“You’re needed here. You need to look after the others.” Michael looks down, watches Lucifer slide on the belt. “I’ll come back,” he says quickly.

Once more, Lucifer says, “I know.” But this time it isn’t true. It’s less doubt than it is pure and simple fear. He lifts the heavy breastplate, shining white silver, a metal that has never formed on Earth and never will. It clangs a little bit, rings out a hollow sound as Lucifer fastens it into place across Michael’s chest. It covers where the heart would be on most animals that are on the planet below, where the glowing core of Michael’s grace lies. Lucifer adjusts it several times over until it’s fitted perfectly into place.The pauldrons come last, sliding into place carefully so as not to impede the movement of Michael’s arms. When Lucifer has finished, Michael’s borrowed, earthly form shines with a pale brilliance reminiscent of his grace. Lucifer moves back and looks him over quietly. 

“You’re sulking,” Michael whispers, barely meeting his eyes, and Lucifer shakes his head.

“I’m not.” 

“You have a peculiar look.”

“He says from his fleshy body encased in metal.”

“Is it so offensive?”

Lucifer smiles then. “No. You’re very beautiful.”

“Even like this?”

“Always.”

Lucifer holds the shining helm out, lifting it over Michael’s head yet hesitating to put it in place. His grace shudders, and he forces his own manifestation into a similar form just enough to lean forward and place a soft kiss against Michael’s downturned lips. The helmet hides his expression before Lucifer can see it, stifles whatever reprimand was surely forming in his throat. Michael lifts his chin, gathering courage up with incidental pride, and looks at Lucifer through the window-like visor.

“Are you sure I can’t come?”

“I won’t have them touch you, Lucifer.”

He flares his wings in petulant agitation. “Yet you go. I would not have them touch you either, but--”

“They can try,” Michael says hotly.

“I’m sure they will.”

“Keep faith, Morning Star.”

Lucifer’s grace reaches out towards that of his older brother in a final caress before he marches off to war. He would follow if he could, but as Michael said, God has given his orders on the matter. Besides, Lucifer has no body to hold his grace, no armor to shield his body, no loyal little sibling to strap it into place. He just has the mental image of Michael’s shining form and the hope that when he returns, only the armor will be tarnished with that vile, dripping black that those creatures just exude and that the heavy layers he fitted so carefully into place will be enough to guard the precious light of the archangel that dwells within.


End file.
